Fall to Earth
by jooleeahh
Summary: A story about hope, friendships and survival. While traveling to the location of his latest victim, the helicopter carrying a serial killer and two CSIs crashes. It's up to the team to rescue them before the killer or nature gets to them first. [This story takes place months after Warrick is killed (Season 9, Episode 1). This story will only comprise of the original CSI cast.]
1. The Beginning

**Title**: Fall to Earth

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note**: I thought of an idea for a story, posted it on fanfiction, and left it without an ending. That was about five years ago. Recently, I dug out my old account and came across it and thought that I should rewrite this story. Hopefully it'll work out. Do leave a review if you think I should continue. I'm not quite sure as to which season this timeline should adhere to, but I'm a fan of the "old-school" CSI episodes. So this story will take place with all of the original members of CSI (Grissom, Nick, Sara, Catherine, Brass, Sofia etc) and will take place a few months after Warrick's death.

_Please forgive me if I get the sequence wrong. The last time I watched CSI was a really long time ago._

So let's start the adventure, shall we? Here goes...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

She hobbled as fast as she could. Terrified, wide-eyed. Her breath came in rapid, short gasps.

_Run…_

That was the only word she could think of. She ran faster, or at least she tried, her left leg slowing her down with every stride. Her surroundings merged as she raced through the forest, trying to find a safe sanctuary among the black trees that stood up in random directions.

_Get away! Get as far away as you can!_

Her brain ranted on with advices she already knew. Her feet kept catching onto exposed roots and broken rocks. Wild thorns from foliages grabbed the skin on her hands and face, tearing into her flesh, not letting her go. She got use to the pain after a while, feeling the warmness that oozed from her wounds, trickling down her skin.

Her body yelled for her to stop, every ounce of pain magnified by ten-folds. But she ran on anyways, panting up a sleep slope, hoping the rest of the team would come and save her.

She didn't expect to end up this way. A target to a game. A prey to a predator. In her line of work, she had seen victims stabbed, shot, strangled, poisoned; killed in many different ways by many different monstrosities. As a CSI, she would be the person, on the outside looking in. Trying to figure out what happened to the victim; to speak up for them when they couldn't.

_Tables have been turned. Now, she's the victim._

A jutting tree root tripped her, breaking her momentum. She stumbled to the ground and rolled down the thorn-infested slope. She quickly got up, trying to ignore the burning sensation that coursed through her hip. The pain was excruciating. She bit back the pain and tears, clambering up the slope on all fours, dragging her injured body along.

Just then, something flickered at the corner of her eye. Its lingering presence drew closer. The sounds grew louder. She looked over her shoulder and saw movement between two trees, glowing with life. Its outline had caught the white moonlight as it shifted from left to right. She froze where she was, afraid to breathe, afraid to move. Slowly, its silhouette disappeared as it ventured in the opposite direction, like the evanescence of midnight mist.

She sighed, relieved as she leaned heavily against a tree. She could barely move any further. After surviving with injures she had sustained hours ago and without warmth, no real rest and no shelter, her chances of surviving were slim and she knew it.

She heard a twig snapped behind her, as she turned around to face…

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

"John Allen, you're under arrest for the murder of Megan Smith. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right…"

The Miranda warning read by a uniformed officer. Police lights, mixing with the sun's rays, forming an unusual blend of colours through an open window. The sound of metallic handcuffs clicking into place. Not the best way to start the morning for some, but for others...

It feels really good.

Nick watched the scene unfold through the shades of his sunglasses. Looking at the two officers, one on each arm, leading the suspect out of the house and towards an awaiting cruiser brought satisfaction to his busy week. The suspect was about Nick's age but thinner, slightly taller and fairer. His shirt untidily tucked into his pants, its buttons not in their respective holes. His dark hair was in a mess, and it appears as if he had just woken up. Obviously not ready for jail time.

This was the serial killer the CSIs had been looking for. Not as presentable as they had imagined, but Nick couldn't help but think about the killer's name: John … such an ordinary name. There were at least a thousand other John in Las Vegas alone. There's a good chance he would have bump into a John in his school's hallway a long time ago, on his way to work or in a club. One of Disciples of Christ was named John; even the unidentified males in police cases were called John Doe. The only thing interesting about this John that separates him from the rest was what he does best.

Killing women.

Sara and Nick spend the past 72 hours going through the evidences. There were at least five victims, found in different areas around the outskirts of Las Vegas. They had only managed to arrest him for one murder. But at least it was a start. The murders took place within a span of five months. An average of one kill per month.

It's the beginning of April. Hopefully, this month would be different.

"John Allen… white Caucasian male in his mid 30s—it's ironic how the evidence ratted him out. Who knew that the car that was supposed to be his getaway would be the key to solving this case?" Nick posed the rhetorical question to Sara, as she stood next to him to get a better view of the commotion. John's fingerprints were a match to ones found on the victim's car. That was enough for a judge to provide a warrant for his arrest.

"It's a good thing we got him today. Something tells me that he would have been gone by tomorrow."

"Yeah." Nick said, turning to look at Sara. From the looks of it, he could tell that she was tired. She had dark shadows under her eyes and her hair was dull, the typical symptom of a person who had spent the whole night awake. She must have been up for at least 2 days. He was beginning to think that she lied about taking a nap while he slept in the break room.

But who can blame her? The case was an intriguing one. The victims were found in places that were heavy forested. Eyewitnesses were forest rangers and hikers that came across their bodies by accident. Some were dead for less than 6 hours; some were close to decomposition, with flies and maggots around. They had blisters around their feet and hands, and cuts and bruises caused by Mother Nature's rocks and trees. Their cause of death was all the same.

Exsanguination. They were beaten, stabbed, shot and left for dead.

* * *

"You went to see him again, didn't you?"

Grissom looked up to see Catherine standing by the doors of his office.

"How did you guess?" He replied. He looked back at her as she looked at him with a friendly concern, her stance radiating with curiosity.

"You have that look." She smiled. "Was Sara with you?"

"It was her idea actually. Her car is in the shop at the moment, and I merely serve as a mean for her to get there... not that I mind." He laughed, smiling as he breathed air out from his nose. "We went early this morning, saw him and left. I just dropped her off to meet Nick not too long ago."

Catherine nodded absentmindedly. "She's been going to see him quite a bit huh?"

"Every chance she gets."

"How do you think she feels?"

Grissom sat up and leaned back against his chair. Sara was not the kind of person who would talk about emotions easily, but she would open up once someone had broken through the wall. Grissom thought he had done that. He thought he had done that the moment she opened up to him in her room about her past; the moment he had agreed to be together with her; the moment she decided to leave but told him where she was going. But this time was different. They never talked about his life or his death – or at least he did and not her. The only closest thing he had of her expressing anything Warrick-related was that she wanted to see him that morning at the cemetery.

But words need not be said, when the actions speak for themselves. Grissom could see it. She seemed almost eager to get to work in the mornings, leaving without him but writing a note as to where she was headed, a morning ritual now. In the afternoons she would immerse herself into whatever cases she was given to work on. If there wasn't a case to solve, Sara became anxious waiting. She would calibrate pipettes and equipment that didn't need calibrating. She would look through closed cases. She kept herself occupied until another case opened up, and would proceed to devote her time and concentration onto that case, completing the cycle.

Catherine herself became an unintended witness to Sara's unusual behaviour. It occurred one night when she had to go back to the lab to retrieve something she had forgotten, and saw Sara in the locker room alone, sitting on a bench adjacent to what was once Warrick's locker. She held her breath as Sara stood, and continued to watch as Sara's fingertips traced the lines of his locker doors, opening them. She hesitated before touching the sleeves of his lab coat, but later held it as she would his hands when he was alive. The glass door that stood between them had made Catherine practically invisible from the inside, preventing her from interrupting this sacred moment between the living and the dead. To this day, Sara had no knowledge of her being there, and Catherine was more than contented keeping it that way.

"_How do you think she feels?"_

There was a pause as silence filled the room, and neither Grissom nor Catherine could provide an answer to the question.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late." Noise flowed into the room like an ocean wave just as a man walked in, carrying a suitcase that had paper jutting out from its sides. The door closed with a sigh and a clank. Voices banished, and the interrogation room was once again plunged in solitude.

"My client is willing to make a deal." Brass and Sara stared at the character that took a seat across from them. John had lawyer up. His lawyer was local, insecure and nervous, a total opposite from his client.

"What's the offer?" Brass questioned, his voice booming with authority. He wasn't really the sort of guy who loses his temper but today, he was not having a good day. This interview was the extra weight he didn't need to carry around his tired shoulders.

"In exchange for a promise of leniency in sentencing, my client will agree to lead law enforcements to the exact locations of his other victims."

"Are you serious? You have got to be kidding me." Brass said, pushing his chair roughly as he stood. "We've all ready got you for murder. More charges are being looked upon by the judge as we speak."

Sara gently placed her hand on Brass's wrist. She knew that the case was taking a personal toll on him. One of the victims was about his daughter's age. She was about the same height, the same hair colour. Taking in the fact that Ellie doesn't talk to him anymore, he could only imagine her ending up like one of them some day. He could feel it in his bones.

The suspect wasn't really interested in what's going on. He seemed almost bored.

"Now, let's be reasonable here—" John said, spreading out his arms like he's selling invisible products before him. The movement carried a strange kind of grace to it. "Do you know… how long it takes for a person to bleed to death?" John asked, suddenly serious. "Maybe about… 8 hours – give or take."

It amazed Sara how causally someone could talk about death.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked. If he's saying this to get her attention, he's got it.

"Let's just say that… in the next... I don't know... 6 hours," He uninhibitedly looked at Brass's watch, which bothered the detective so much that he withdrew his hand from the table. "In the next 6 hours, I would have killed another one." He said cryptically, his voice pitched as he leaned back against his chair.

"Are you saying that someone's out there? Alive?" Sara said, as she took a glimpse at Brass. He's losing his patience. It was just a matter of time.

John gave her an evil, mischievous smirk. He shrugged. "Last I checked."

"Where, John?"

His lawyer opened his mouth to whisper some advice into his ears. He whispered back.

"My client is prepared to make the deal official. He claims that if he does not personally provide the whereabouts of the victim, then she will most likely not survive long enough to be rescued by the present search operation."

It took everything in her power to stop Brass from breaking the suspect's arm and killing him with it. John's lawyer stood up, covering his surprise by adjusting the rim of his glasses and yelling empty legal threats. All John did was held up a hand to silence his lawyer, enjoying the attention he's getting. Sara placed her hand onto the older man's arm, watching as the redness of his face dissipate into their respective vessels. Brass readjusted his suit, squaring his shoulders as he began to close the deal.

But the suspect was having too much fun to stop now.

"Oh…and one more thing." John said, making eye contact with Brass for the first time since the start of the interview. "Other than the promise of leniency, I'll only reveal the whereabouts of the victim if Ms. Sidle comes along…. Not alone, of course. Just not with you." He winked at Sara, who was actually surprised to hear his request.

"As long as you tell us where she is." She replied, her voice steady and even.

John stood up from his chair, almost deadly calm as he locked eyes with Sara. He then turn towards Brass, his body reeked with deceit as he began clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

_Tick tock, tick tock…_

* * *

**TBC**

Hope you had enjoyed this chapter. What do you think? Like it? Hate it?


	2. The Problem

**Title**: Fall to Earth

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note**: I hope you're not confused with the previous chapter. I like to write stories that speak about the past, present and future in no particular order. Makes things interesting, right? To be honest, I was hoping for more reviews and feedback, but I'll still continue to do my best. For the ones that wrote me a review for the previous chapter, I thank you. I look forward to reading and reviewing your stories as you did mine. A good turn deserves another, don't you think? :)

Okay then! On to the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Tick tock, tick tock… Time was running out. _

He stared at his watch and cursed, his breath huffing in and out of his lungs in thick plumes of vapour. It's been almost a day since the crash, and so far, things haven't really gone according to plan— He woke up alone with a dead man. It rained heavily; visibility was close to zero. The cockpit was wet and cold. Search and rescue was delayed and he's stranded in the middle of nowhere.

At least he was still alive. Thinking back, he wondered how he had managed to survive this misadventure.

* * *

_The mangled husk of the downed helicopter had saved his life, serving as a protection and insulation against the elements. He woke up to find his world diagonal; the metallic shell of the helicopter leaning on its side, its base propped up against a tree, its blades detached and broken. He slipped in and out of his conscious state repeatedly, much to his dismay. All he could see was the blurred imaged of a damaged window screen, the cracks focusing into solid fractures with every blink of his lead-laden eyes. _

_All he wanted to do was to fall asleep._

_When he finally opened his eyes, he didn't think that he had died and gone to heaven. The gods would not be so cruel as to dump his soul in the middle of the forest encased in a cracked eggshell. The pain was his secondary proof of that—earth pain, unique and unmistakable. He was damp, heavy and covered in blood and leaves. The thick, sticky liquid coagulated onto his jacket, pooling like wax, weighing him down. _

_The blood was enough to jerk him awake. Startled at the sight, he immediately surveyed his injuries. He had several broken ribs, a gash on his forehead and several cuts and bruises. Other than that, he was physically healthy. Apparently, the seat that he chose suffered the least damage during the crash. He unclipped his seatbelt and fell on— what used to be— the door. The metal container groaned with disapproval as he moaned in pain. At least he wasn't the only one upset with the current situation. _

_Getting oriented to his new, surreal surroundings, a drop of fluid fell onto his shoulder. He would have thought it was bird crap by the feel of it, but he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. _

_The blood on his jacket… not all of it belonged to him. The blood was from the pilot, who was hanging above him by his seatbelt, dangling like a puppet without his master. _

_It was sad, really. He barely knew the guy… _

_But it wasn't the presence of the pilot that bothered him. Rather, it was the absence of his passengers. All that's left of their existence were two bloodstained chairs and wet leaves coming through a broken door. _

_Where did everybody go?_

_He did a quick inventory check and took everything he needed. First aid kit, flashlight, matches, radio and more… all the things he would need to survive this situation. _

_Everything's accounted for… Except a Swiss army knife in the first aid kit and his gun from his holster…_

* * *

Nightfall approached steadily. He had spent the last of daylight, frantically searching the area, and he came across no one. No living humans, no dead bodies. He leaned against a black tree and slid down to take a break. The sounds of pine needles squished and crunched under his weight; the shadows swallowed him up without comment.

Demoralised and uninspired, he sighed, taking in the smell of the earth. It smelled almost like earthworms and decaying wood. Normally, its aroma would have made him feel alive, but this time, it made him miserable, and pathetic. The blood on his collar contributed a copper odour to his environment. Fortunately, there was an extra work jumpsuit in the helicopter; enough to keep him warm and to keep animals at bay.

By now, the rain had lessened; the giant drops of fresh water had reduced into a drizzle. He wasn't even sure that was a good thing. He pulled back the hood of his jacket, feeling the icy sting of rain as it pelted his skin. The storm had definitely passed, but its frigid minions remained in its wake.

He appreciated the storm. In a way, he could blame the weather for the tears trickling down his face.

He reached for the radio that was still clipped to his shoulder. He wasn't sure if it would work this time. The forest and rain had made reception almost impossible, but he was desperate enough to try. He thumbed the button on the radio.

"Brass? It's Nick." He said with a sense of dread.

"I think we have a problem…"

* * *

_Earlier that day… _

"I don't think you'll have any problems. You're going to nail this one." Sara said, carrying a box filled with evidences. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder while meandering through the lab's corridors. It wasn't easy…

Muffled sounds over the phone signaled a reply.

"Don't be silly… I'm sure you'll be fine. What time's your prelim again?"

She tiled her head and looked sharply at her watch_. 5 hours before the person they're looking for dies…_ she reminded herself, almost not listening to Greg on the phone.

"Right… okay. Remember what I told you… Speak slowly. Use simple terms. You got to help the jury to understand what's going on…"

_Will they make it in time?_ She thought as Greg thanked her for her advice over the phone. From a distance, she noticed Nick, walking towards her, looking confused, and a little upset. Sara knew that was her cue to hang up the phone.

"You'll be fine, you've been through this before remember? Okay, let me know how it goes alright, Greg? I got to go… Talk to you soon."

She placed the box down on the desk and hung up the phone just as Nick approached her.

"I can't believe you did that. Why would you do that?"

Sara froze for a moment, surprised at his tone. "Do what?" She looked at her phone in her hand. "You wanted to speak to Greg?"

"No. It's not that… How could you agree to go with John Allen to find his victim? Do you know how dangerous he is? He's a serial killer. He kills women, you know."

"I'm aware of that." Sara said, slightly annoyed at Nick for pointing out the obvious, and yet swayed by his intentions.

Nick—maybe it was the way he was raise— disagrees with anything involving putting a lady in harms way. Sara's agreement with a serial killer goes against every virtue he had growing up as a kid. If he could talk her out of it, he would. He spent part of the day immersed in this case, trying – but failing – to get the suspect to tell him the location of his victim, and trying – but failing – to convince Brass to persuade Sara not to go.

Nick's a Texan gentleman at heart. He was nicknamed well—a modern-day Pancho, righting wrongs and fighting injustice wherever he finds it.

"He'll only reveal the victim's whereabouts if I come along. I'm not going to sit around bargaining with him on a better deal when someone's life is on the line." Sara quickly added, as if saying that would justify her decision. _Nick would understand, right? _A part of her knew that he was right; dealing with a serial killer like John wasn't the best idea. But another part, a bigger part of her, was thinking of the victim.

That was her biggest flaw, her weakness. _People…_

"It's a small sacrifice to make, Nick. In this line of work, we do it all the time…"

_But…Of course he'll ask for you. He'll want you to come along because you fit the profile._ Nick bit his tongue before the words could slip out, but they echoed in his mind anyway. He knew—base on experience and gut feeling—that killers would often take something or someone that reminds them of the crime, whether it's a future victim or a memento. It would take very little for them to pounce and attack the first thing they see.

John was the type of killer who is thrill-oriented; he is in it for the fun and would kill for the excitement. The last thing Nick wants in this world is for Sara to be alone with a psychotic killer.

"Does Grissom know what you're planning to do?" He asked sharply, cutting her off.

"… Brass and I talked to him."

"And he's fine with it?"

"He wasn't at first, but Brass managed to..."

"Does anyone else know you're doing this? Does Catherine or Greg?"

_Please stop this…_

"... What do they have to do with this...?"

"... Because I think if they knew, they would have talked you out of it, in the exact way I'm doing right now!"

"We would not be able to come up with another course of action, let alone execute it in less than 5 hours!"

_Why are we arguing?_

"Did you even try?"

"You're not listening to me..."

"You didn't even try!"

"Nick..."

"Do you think for a moment, if Warrick was still alive, he would have let you go?"

The room became deathly still. The shouting stopped as soon as the sense of regret seeped in. Nick sensed a shift in the surrounding atmosphere and looked at Sara with an expression that he could only imagine to be one of surprise, like a man realising the consequences of his crimes.

He turned his face a little to the side, shamed by words that he just said. Through the glass doors, he could see people looking towards their direction, wondering what on earth was going on.

"What?" Sara finally said.

Her voice trembled.

Her hands trembled.

He looked at her hands and could not believe that he had put her in that state of anger and sadness.

The silence lingered uncomfortably. Nick noticed that the people on the other side of the glass doors begin to move. Hearing nothing more, their curiosity in Nick and Sara's argument began to fade. They shrugged in confusion, moving on as if they had imagined the whole commotion.

"I just... I just don't want to see you get hurt."

_Please don't look at me like that, Sara._

She turns away and her trembling hands are hidden from view.

"I think its best that you leave now."

He wanted to do what she asked of him, as reparation for he had said, but the shaking that envelopes her stopped him.

"I will." He said after a long pause. "But only if you let me come along with you."

A peculiar feeling was rising from the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she did not know if she wanted Nick around her or not.

"Officer Metcalf's riding with me..."

"I know. I'll talk to Officer Metcalf. He'll be fine with it." He said, interrupting her gently. "Let me ride with you and I'll do as you ask and leave this room right now... let me ride with you."

He felt abhorrence for himself and wondered whether Sara felt it too. For him to hurt her and then asked something of her was as bad as stabbing her and cutting a piece of her flesh to keep for himself.

It took her a long time to reply, and his abhorrence only grew during that time.

"Okay." She said quietly. Even though her back was turned, he could tell that she was crying. He had hurt her with words alone.

The feeling of abhorrence still lingers.

"I'm really sorry for what I said... I'll make it up you somehow..."

The words _"Too late"_ echoed in his mind.

He took one last look at her before leaving.

But she didn't look back at him.

**TBC**


	3. The Crash

**Title**: Fall to Earth

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note**: A special Thank-you goes out to all those who reviewed and those who are following this story.

To: **csiaddict2002** (Thank you for your review, you'll find out what the team will do in the later chapters. Sorry to keep you waiting. Hope you'll enjoy this one, I wrote it a little longer just for you.) **Kr3ativ23** (Updated! We'll see if Nick and Sara will find each other after what they have been through), **Guest** (I wish I knew who you were so I can thank you for your review. I'm glad you like the mix between the past and the present. I was worried that it'll confuse some readers) **sydcasy** (Hope you'll like this chapter. The next chapter is going to have some action in it. I'll post that one soon)

The more reviews, the sooner the posting of the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Don't look back now..._

The dark forest loomed before him, horrendous and intimidating. The sun was setting, and the beautiful forest had plunged into the heart of darkness like a two-face hypocrite. The trees that looked majestic in the day had morphed into thick mutated hands by night, reaching for the sky. Creatures emanated from their hiding places, comforted by the shadows. The ground that was so green and alive now appeared dead and desolated.

_He's home… Home Sweet Home._

A strange, musty scent of the forest caught his senses. It was a disgusting feeling, setting down the pit of his heart like a slimy carnivorous infection slithering over the forest floor. Normal people would hate that feeling, but he loved it. That was the feeling he lived for. It was his drug, his fix. It was that feeling that made him feel alive. In his forest, he felt no fear. Nothing dangerous lurked nearby. Nothing will sneak up on him. Nothing will kill him. That was no surprise, considering that the only evil crawling in this forest was himself.

_In his forest, he was in control. He was that something that lurked nearby. He was that something that will sneak up on you. He was that something that will kill you… _

He stood behind a dark tree, squeezing the forest view into the eye that dared to expose itself from his hiding place. His face was so close to the tree that he could smell the damp rotting wood. His clammy knuckles rested against the rough bark as his filthy fingers wrapped around a smooth knife. He had done this many times before, but this time, it felt different. He hadn't felt this excited in a long time.

Maybe… just maybe it's because he had her, someone of authority. The thrill of hunting someone he didn't dare go after. She was one of them, the kind that was the opposite of himself. He was on the bad side. She was on the good. The side of justice that he could prove was on the losing end… Or maybe it was fate. It was destiny that they crashed in an area that he knows best. It was meant to be that he kills one more person before he gets lock away for a very long time…

_He smirked to himself. Whatever the reason it may be, at least he gets to take a life tonight._

* * *

_A few hours ago, it was raining heavily. He had removed her radio, gotten her out of the helicopter and carried her away from the crash. It was easy as the crash had somehow broken the link between his handcuffs, setting his hands free. They had been unconscious for a while but he wasn't worried. In this weather and with the nearest clearing being about two days away, backup isn't coming anytime soon. As he walked, the sound of fresh water falling on leaves felt like applauses. The presence of thunder and lightings made him feel like a celebrity having his picture taken. It wasn't all that glamorous though ...The mud that squished beneath his boots had made his socks soggy. His pants and his shirt stuck to his skin heavily like a clammy wet suit and the air around them was numbing. But he has gotten used to it. These conditions were not new to him anyways; in fact, it was because of weathers like these that he could get away with murder. The nature will always reclaim evidence back into the ground. He continued walking, certain they would beat the worst part of the storm. Besides, he wasn't hurt too badly, just some minor cuts and abrasions. _

_Maybe it was fate after all…_

_He laid her on the ground and shook her awake. He had this urge, a strong urge to do what he does best. But it wasn't time yet, not yet. The voice in his head told him that he wasn't ready. His hunts were based on this theory; the longer he let urge go, the stronger it got, to a point where he would go out and react on primal instinct and excitement. The kill would be all worthwhile, just like the last time. Just thinking of it made his adrenaline levels peaked to its highest. _

_He shook her again, harder. Her eyelids twitched and a frown creased her brow, but she did not wake. He did not blame her. He blamed that damned pilot. He sucked at flying; he couldn't even control a damned helicopter. She was sitting behind the pilot during the journey. That was the side of the helicopter suffered the worst during the crash. _

_But so what? _

_He wasn't planning on letting it ruin his fun. Feeling annoyed, he pressed onto her leg wound, forcing her fully into conscious. She screamed in pain, her cries echoing into the forest. Hearing her voice drowning in the rain filled his heart and mind with demented ecstasy._

_That's better, he thought, leaning in close to whisper the rules to her._

_He turned around and walked to the crash site to retrieve a gun and a knife, knowing that when he got back, she would be gone. _

_She would be gone and the game would begin._

* * *

Hours had passed since then and by now, the sun had set completely. However, the rain still fell from the sky and even with the fish-belly white moonlight illuminating the black forest, the area appeared even darker than before. The thick tangle of twisted trees seemed to whisper sinister words into his ears. He knew that it was time. The urge has overflowed.

_Patience was a virtue he took pride in._

From behind the tree, he watched as she swayed slightly before leaning heavily against the tree closest to her, obviously exhausted after all that running and falling. He had found her. He was so close that he could burst into a frenzy of anticipation. His eyes glittered delightfully, as if he was inspecting his meal before dining. He was halfway out of his place of hiding, when he accidentally stepped on a twig at the base of the tree.

_Damn that twig… _He cursed under his breath at his mistake.

_Oh well, looks like the hunts over. Let the fun begin. _

With the knife in his hand, he dashed from behind the tree…

* * *

_A few hours ago…_

"Okay, for the record, I'm really not happy about you going on a ride with a serial killer." Brass said to Sara as the two helicopters flew across the thick forest. Sara, Nick, John Allen sat in one, while Brass, a wilderness ranger and an officer sat in another.

"I know…" Sara answered reassuringly.

"How's the radio?"

"The radio sounds good. I can hear you loud and clear."

"The radio I just gave you is unique to you, Nick and the crime lab. Your pilot and your 'serial killer' would not be able to hear us. I want you keep updating me of your status, so out of the two of you, I want to hear your voice more. If I hear Nick's voice over the radio, I'm going to assume that you're in trouble… and I'm going to give him the permission to throw that 'serial killer' out of the helicopter."

Sara smiled at the thought. That's what she loved about Brass. She may not have had the best father figure in the earlier periods of her life, but with the affection of a parent in Brass, she couldn't ask for more. Her only wish was that he didn't use the word 'serial killer' so much. She didn't need to be reminded of that.

"Keep your earpiece on at all times. The radio is connected to it by Bluetooth. The mic is on the radio, but you still have to push the PTT button to talk…" Sara listened as Brass talked about the new communication devices like a teen bragging about his new car. The state had provided the Las Vegas crime lab and the police force affiliated with them brand new radios, the same ones issued to the SWAT teams and FBI – or so Ecklie proudly proclaims. _"For security reasons…"_ Sara remembered him saying. Somehow, she couldn't help but think that Warrick's death had something to do with this…

"That's technical… Are the intermitting beeps normal? Or are they a special function of your new toy?" Sara joked. The moment she got onto the helicopter, Sara had notice a soft but audible beep that sounded every 2 seconds. The beeps were not at all annoying. They reminded her of the sonar sounds of a submarine, a distinctive _ping_ without any reflections of its echo. She listened to the pulse of sound. There was something soothing about it.

"Hey… first of all, don't make fun of the radio. I've been working for a long time and I've learnt that when the state gives us something, it'll be something good." Brass replied with mock authority. "Secondly, the radios that were given to us were designed for long range communication. The beeping will only occur when there's another device in close proximity to you. That radio has to be synced to the same channel... "

"So what you're saying is," She looked towards Nick, who had been listening to their conversation all this while, "the radio I have on is picking up Nick's radio frequency, creating impulses that result in the beeps?"

"Looks who's being technical now?" Brass laughed. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really. We have heard worse on our old radios. Remember the statics and feedbacks?"

Brass laughed again. "Who can forget them? Oh… before I forget, the earpiece has its own independent reception, so even without the radio, you can still receive our transmissions; but audio only. The downside to this is that the range of the independent receiver in the earpiece is not as efficient as the receiver in the radio. A mile at most... if you're lucky..." The older man paused for a moment, as if he was talking to himself. "Basically, to sum up: lose the radio, you'll only lose the long range communications... but if you lose the earpiece, you'll lose all communications. So keep your earpiece on at all times. Have I mentioned that already?"

"At the beginning… yes"

"Oh okay... Don't make me repeat myself again then." At that last comment, Nick turned to look at Sara, smirking as he mimicked Brass's words with his hands, his fingers and thumbs pushed together and separating at each syllable. Sara released the PTT button, as if she was going to hide a giggle, but she just smiled. Their previous argument, although forgiven, still hung silently around them.

"Doesn't sound like much of an improvement from our own radios Brass..." Nick said.

"What did I say about making fun of the radio?!"

After a load of friendly banter between the two men, Brass continued, suddenly serious, "Hopefully we'll be able to find the victim. The weather's not looking too good. If it gets worse, we might have to abandon the search. Is that clear?"

"Got it." Sara replied, praying silently that it would not resolve to that.

Cuffed securely to his seat, John Allen stared at Sara as she thumbed the button on the radio. Nick eyed him suspiciously. He did not like the way he was looking at her, like she was good enough to eat. It was already bad enough that John was sitting directly behind him. It was worse that a serial killer was sitting next to Sara. If it were up to him, Nick would have already tortured him for answers before letting him near her. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to gorge John's eyes out. So, he tried not to think about it. Instead, he decided to focus all his attention on finding the victim.

"Hey John… What's going on? We've been flying over the woods for almost an hour now. You better not be jerking us around." Nick demanded.

"Relax… we're getting close. Just over that creek there."

_Even if they found the victim, it would be almost impossible for them to save her. There's no place to land, or even drop a line down into the forest._ Sara thought as she looked at the thick green labyrinth below.

They flew over the creek and after searching for several minutes, they found nothing. The trees had made it impossible to see what was on the ground. Their dense canopies swayed frantically as the helicopter got closer.

"What the hell..." Nick said through clenched teeth. "I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand, John..."

John smirked. He looked towards Sara's direction as thought she was the one who made the comment. "People forget..."

Sara looked towards John with tired eyes as she realised what he was doing. "You're stalling."

John smiled at her with an obnoxious grin. His teeth were like the ones the Cheshire cat had, only his were slightly yellowish. "I like the view… besides, the weather is getting pretty serious. Don't you think?"

He was right. The weather had changed drastically. The icy rain pelted the windows with a force could cause damage at any moment. The wipers struggled in vain to clear the thick layer of water that kept visibility at a minimal.

A bad time for flight, but John was enjoying this hell ride.

The pilot was getting a little agitated. He had been silent ever since the helicopter took off, but he wasn't going to tolerate this crap any longer. "Just tell us where she is, damn it!"

"Shut up and pilot this contraption. Do as you're told." John retaliated harshly but calm. He knew that he was in control. They needed him to direct them to the victim.

The pilot twisted his head slightly to look at John. Sara begged in her head for him to look forward. "I hope you know that you're going to burn in hell for this. I'll see to that!" He shouted.

"Yeah, I'll say hi to your wife when I get there."

"What did you say?"

"Stop it. Both of you! Calm down." Nick barked at the two men, his voice booming with authority. Sara was glad that he was around. Somehow, she felt safe with Nick.

"It's okay, CSI man. I know this guy. I know his wife too. She'll make a great target…I'm sure she'll run fast with those legs of hers…"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The pilot turned in his seat. "How about I set this down, and you say that to my face!"

"Stop engaging the suspect." Sara said immediately. This was the last thing she needed. The lack of sleep, the movement within the helicopter, the arguments made her head throbbed; a big messy hangover in her mind.

"Back off, lady. This is between me and this son of a…"

"HEY.' Nick shouted. "Don't you dare speak to her that way!"

"I'll say it to your face right here." John taunted.

Sara thumbed the button on the radio. Maybe coming out here was a bad idea after all. "Brass… We may have a situation here…"

Nick tried desperately to break up the shouting match, as Sara tried her best to shout to Brass over the commotion. She looked out the window for assurance. But outside, the rain was hammering the landscape, obliterating the helicopter that was supposed to be following them. She sat uneasily in her seat, as the radio crackled and fuzzed uselessly. Words were getting cut off due to the heavy rain with only static dominating its speakers.

"Get these cuffs off and I'll say it to your face!" John continued sneering. The pilot struck back with more insults, completely unaware of a yellow light flashing on the instrument panel.

But Nick noticed. He yelled out to the pilot, who did not hear him until he grabbed a fistful of his jacket. He urgently pointed to the light.

"The tail rotor! The tail rotor chip light!"

The pilot's face drained of its colour. His thoughts immediately went away when he realised what was happening. He tightened his grip on the cyclic control. His foot hit a pedal. He quickly broadcasted his situation over to the other pilot in Brass's helicopter.

"Chopper one. Mechanical failure. Tail rotor malfunction…"

From within his compartment, Brass watched as the other helicopter drew descending circles in the sky. He pushed the button on the radio and yelled out to Sara. He had never felt so helpless in his life. The helicopter became smaller and smaller as it spiralled out of control, falling down to earth.

"Sara! Nick!" He shouted into the radio as he turned towards the windows. "Get us down there now!"

"There's no clearing. There's no way I'll be able to land."

Panic travelled from his heart to his voice. "Then find one! Find one now!"

Brass's helicopter pulled further and further away, searching for a place to settle down. He stared back at the forest, paralysed as thick black smoke rose from the heavily wooded area...

**TBC**

* * *

I hope you had enjoyed this chapter.

If you like it, do leave a review. Your encouragements are greatly needed in the continuation of this story.


	4. The Chase

**Title**: Fall to Earth

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note**: Once again, a big 'thank you' goes out to all those who reviewed or added this story to their alert or favourite list.

To **Bene **(I had this unexplainable joy to see that you were the 'guest' who reviewed the previous chapter. I remembered you and your reviews from the other story I wrote (In Hell With Love). You always had something nice to say after I post a chapter. Sorry if I've disappointed you with the lack of updates. I'll do my best to keep writing for you. You inspire and motivate me with your review :) ), **sydcasy **(Haha. Yeah, it's a hard landing and a terrible fall for the CSIs, but they can take it. They're tough. Let's see what they'll do to survive this.), **kr3ativ23 **(Good observation with the radio. I'm going to play around with them in the later chapters. For all we know, the radio may play an important part in their survival *minor spoiler*. Hope you'll like this update.), **AA – MamaBirdCat **(I'm glad this story got you hooked, and I hope to make this story more exciting for you in the later chapters. Just to answer your question: Catherine had been with Warrick till the day he died and she had support and the rest of the CSIs around her during that time. Sara, on the other hand, was away and the last time she saw Warrick was on the day she left. She might have called or communicated in some other way, but it's definitely not the same as being with someone you care about in person. Guilt, regret, loss... you name it, Sara is probably feeling it. I'm not saying that Catherine is immune to the depression that death brings, but she is one step ahead of Sara in terms of dealing with the loss. Hope that clarifies things a little :) thank you for your awesome review.), **RockWench **(Thank you for your reviews. This story might get little more angsty, but I'll try not to go overboard. Thanks again).

An action-packed chapter awaits... keep calm and read on :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Wakey wakey, Ms Sidle. How are we doing today? _

She never knew she could feel such pain. The wound on her leg hurts so bad, like someone had burned a hole through her jeans, skin, muscle and bone. She cried out.

_My… you don't look so good. I got something that will perk you right up. How about a game? I'm sure you'll like that. _

She felt dizzy and with the ringing in her ears, she watched the raindrops fall from the dark, grey skies. She couldn't feel the cool drops of water, like she wanted to. Her body felt like as if it was on fire.

_Don't worry; it's an easy one. I'm sure someone as intelligent as you will catch on really quickly._

She could smell the odour of gasoline. From a distance, the black smoke merged into the clouds, becoming part of the sky. The green leaves swayed as if to avoid each drop of rain, as their brown branches moved with the wind.

_There is only one rule for you to abide by, and that is to survive for as long as you can. I'll have my own rules to follow. The game ends when you get caught, and… as you already know Ms Sidle… I'm really good at this game…_

He enunciated each word of his last phase, stretching each syllable in a mocking, annoying manner. She despised the way he said it. She could feel her tears forming, her emotions hung at the back of her throat, as she wondered how she's going to get out of this one.

_Life is a game, Ms Sidle. So fight for your life… _

_And see if you're worth it._

* * *

Grissom was aimlessly pacing in front of the window that overlooked the city of Las Vegas. The lights that often reminded him of Christmas in the middle of the year had been reduced to a coloured blur, like a dream in which his eyes refused to open. His hands were wet from the constant rubbing of the glass, which within seconds fogged up again, as if mocking his attempts to see what's going on outside. He sighed. The rain had made it impossible to see anything. He could feel the chill of the heartless icy downpour, despite the fact that he was standing behind the double-paned glass window of their building. He could only wonder what it was like for them.

Grissom couldn't help but worry for the last hour or so as he watched the weather getting steadily worse. The helicopters carrying part of his CSI team were supposed to be back hours ago. Radioing them would prove useless, as the heavy downpour would interfere with the radio's frequencies. For now, the only thing he could do is to wait, hoping and praying that he's worrying for nothing.

"They're not back yet?"

He turned around to see Greg walking towards him, his shoes making a wet 'squishing' sound wherever he took a step across the polished floor. _Vegas's so-called dry spell was officially over_, Grissom thought. And it was just his luck to authorise a search on the day that turned out to be the biggest storm the city had seen in a long time. The younger CSI stood beside his boss, watching the shadows of rain from the glass roll down his face, as the non-existent sun set behind the grey clouds.

"…I thought I better check-in with you to see if you had heard from Sara and Nick." Greg explained nervously.

"Not yet." Grissom replied as he gently shook his head. "They could be held up somewhere. Hopefully they'll be able to find somewhere to land and seek shelter. The weather's getting worse."

Greg took a step forward and looked to the sky behind the safety of the window. The clouds loomed heavily above, an unnatural dull grey that changed its tone like the seconds on the clock. Lighting flashed from behind the veil of the canvas sky, adding to this nagging feeling that he was unable to shake off.

"Heard their suspect is a real jerk," he said, still fixated to the heavens. "Have you tried the radio?"

"Tried that, but the storm keeps getting in the way—" Grissom's words stopped abruptly, as he heard the sound of whirling blades over the pattering of the rain. Wiping another spot of the glass, he spotted the dark unsteady silhouette of a huge mechanical bird heading their direction.

"Looks like they're back." Greg heaved a sigh of relief as Grissom held his breath. "Grissom?"

Grissom moved from side to side within the radius of clear spot that was rapidly disappearing. An unexpected sense of dread crept up the back of his spine and stayed frozen at the back of his head.

"Something's wrong." He said, as Greg wiped his sleeve across the surface of the glass and stuck his nose to the window.

"There's only one… Where's the other chopper?"

* * *

_Where on earth is that chopper?_ Nick thought to himself as he wandered around in the forest. He had been so hell bent on searching for Sara that he hadn't noticed where he was going. When he finally decided to head back to get his bearings straight, the weather had destroyed his trail and left him alone, with the darkness closing in. Irritation tingled in his body, all the way to his fingertips, as he couldn't comprehend how stupid he was. _Rookie mistake_. Hikers had lost their way and lives because of mistakes like these. His only hope was to find a road or a stream and pray—with all his might—that the team would be able to locate it on the map once the radio's back in working condition.

He looked at his watch. He had been searching for about 4 hours now. The victim they're looking for has only about one hour to live. _Or less…_ he wasn't really sure. _Sara would be pissed_, He imagined. She would definitely blame him for looking for her instead of the victim. He's sure she'll understand—once he explained it to her—considering that he didn't really have much of a choice. He reached for his radio for the umpteenth time, one for each quarter of an hour, trying his luck from time to time. But this time, instead of calling Brass, he decided to challenge the weather and changed the frequency to the lab.

"Grissom. It's Nick." He said with a sense of dismay.

"I think we have a problem…" He laughed to himself. "I'm sure you've already figured that out. I'm fine, by the way… but Sara's nowhere to be found…"

The radio stared back at him, the speakers in his ears sat silently, attempting to comfort him with a short buzzing static at end of each transmission.

Nothing. He looked at the back of his radio, only to find a giant crack at the back, circuits exposed. His radio is broken and all this while, he has been talking to no one but himself.

_Lose the radio, you'll only lose the long range communications..._

Nick clenched his fist. All that energy that he had been conserving since the crash boiled within the pit of his stomach, and blended uncomfortably with the air he was sucking into his body. "No…" he said, not knowing what he was rejecting, exactly. "Damn it! No!"

His shout echoed around the dark forest and he slammed his fists against tree. Several layers of dead bark fell from its trunk that towered above the forest floor. In the distance he heard insects and frogs calling back to him in a complex battle cry. Either they were lost too, or fighting each other to the death. Nick didn't care which.

_I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you. Great job hero..._ The feeling of self loathing came back as he remembered what he said to Sara a few hours ago. Before getting into the helicopter with him, she assured him that she had forgiven him, and forgotten the words he had said out of impulse that hurt her so badly. He knew she was lying for his sake.

_"Do you think for a moment, if Warrick was still alive, he would have let you go?_

_Who could ever forget something like that?_

He basically told her that her idea of saving someone was the worst thing ever by using name was a friend who passed away not too long ago and whom she misses with all her heart.

Words can kill. He did not know if he would have forgiven her if the tables were turned. Then again, he knew that Sara would never say something like that to him. He's failing not only as a CSI partner, but a friend too.

As he leaned against the tree, wondering what to do next, a pair of yellow eyes flickered into glowing life. The evening sun had retired for the day and whatever that was afraid of the light had come out of hiding to torment. Nick froze in his place, and the eyes closed and disappeared, like embers at the bottom of a dying campfire.

"No… Hell no…" he breathed. His sudden outburst must have caught the attention of predators lurking nearby. Slowly he turned in a circle, holding his breath, feeling watched.

Nick jumped as he heard a mournful howl, and another, and another, as thought they were talking amongst themselves and telling each other where to find him. He stooped down and quickly grabbed a few rocks, cramming them in his pockets. As his feet pushed the ground and propelled him forward, the foliage behind him vibrated with life and the owner of the glowing eyes leaped out and started to chase him.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Nick panted. The trees flashed by him, their roots trying to trip him. The soft ground wasn't cooperating and it seems as if nature had betted against him, hoping he would lose. He ran with his hands in front of him—as, at the speed he's going, even the light from the setting sun and the rising moon couldn't help him. It was just a matter of time before he collides into a tree and breaks his neck. He cursed at his second mistake for the day— Running was the worse thing he could do. But then again…. it was the only thing he could do.

_What were they? How many of them?_ He couldn't tell. To his left, he saw the image of an animal flashing between the trees, keeping up with his pace. It wasn't even putting in any effort at all, obviously familiar to the rough land. To his right, he could hear a creature's deep and heavy panting. And he could have swore he felt a snout of a beast touching the back of his leg, attempting to get hold of him with its massive jaws. Nick didn't know how many were there but there was definitely more than one, each of them testing him. Seeing how fast he could run, waiting for him to fall.

Nick knew that it was only a matter of time before they catch him. He decided to take full advantage of the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins. Having two legs may not be able to beat four, but having hands will definitely work to his favour. From a distance, he spotted a tree that stood up from the leaning forest. Its thick limbs protruded from the trunk, just two meters off the ground. He dug deep within himself as he ran right at it, and grabbed the closest branch, shoving himself up the tree. Ripped bark and rain droplets fell onto the predators below and before he knew it, he was standing on a thick branch three meters from the ground, holding on to the tree trunk for support.

There were three wolves at the bottom of the tree, staring back at him with desperate eyes. Their eyes were angry and confused, as if wondering what to do. They paced around and attempted to climb the tree, barking as they failed miserably.

"Ha! How'd you like that?" Nick mocked. Down below, the animals raked at the tree with their claws, occasionally jumping up to bite him. Their tongues hung low as they reached higher and higher. Nick vibrated in his hiding place, knowing that if he didn't do anything, they would shake him out of the tree or waited till he died to eat him. He didn't have that much time. He had to look for Sara…

Grabbing a solid rock from his pocket, he looked out for the "alpha dog" before casting the first stone. Unfortunately, he missed, hitting the earth below. Instantly, the wolves froze and began looking from side to side. Their leader, a big shaggy animal, took a step forward to sniff the source of the sound, before looking up at the culprit. It growled and Nick threw another rock, hitting it between the eyes.

Nick continued to throw his stash of rocks. The wolves' tails went down and they glanced at each other, as if to ask if this was all worth it. It obviously wasn't. It took a few minutes before the animals beneath him scattered, disappearing within the dark trees like candles being snuffed out. That would be the last they see of their two-legged prey, as they decided unanimously that a smaller, less dangerous meal would be sufficient.

_That'll teach them to mess with me_, Nick thought, annoyed at the precious moments that had ticked away while the wolves drove him up a tree. He dumped the rocks that remained and started to climb down the tree.

Moving from one branch to another, he descended to the lowest limb of the tree with ease. Hanging from his arms, he let himself fall to earth, landing perfectly. However, with the surge of adrenaline leaving him, the harsh contact of the solid ground shook every pain receptor in his body. Nick cringed as he held his side. That sudden jolt of running for his life must have taken its toll on the injuries he sustained in the crash. He gritted his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside.

Nick never liked feeling weak. He would have forced himself to keep going, but the pain was too great. He dropped to his knees and lean against the tree that saved his life earlier. _Just 5 minutes_, he told himself, _not more than 5 minutes_. He sat uneasily on the carpet of musty pine needles and dead leaves, and anxiously wondered where Sara is. Wild imagination swirled in his head, as he pondered upon various scenarios, Sara's condition and the whereabouts of 'John the serial killer'.

He vowed to find Sara. He will find her. He has to. If encountering a group of animals left him in this state, he could only imagine what John would do to Sara.

_Because even the wildest of animals behave better than human beings sometimes…_

**TBC**


End file.
